My eyes bleed, releasing a warm liquid onto my face as the burning lava of the Serum enters my veins. The sound of the world leaves me, forcing Earl's crazed scream to become nothing but motion as my focus leaves him. I stretch out my gaze westward, reaching out with my mind with all I can. Agony tears through my veins, and Painsforge boldens my focus as the Serum combats the skill angrily. You're never supposed to use Ether during an injection, but I wrestle away from that rule with every inch of will I possess.
Each of my heartbeats grows in volume as they accelerate in worry. More blood leaves my eyes as my pupils are the only segments of my vision not filled with red. I extend my gaze further, searching for my mother, who is not my mother.
I reach, hoping to find her with Insight. My internal plea becomes a Daydream as my fingers clench onto the window of the train, crushing the metal beneath my grip as if made of paper—anger fumes as I push myself even further, physically and mentally. My head exits the window, opening me to the winds of the world, and that's when I feel a connection.
As Blackcrink turns into a storm of sand, dust, and blood that surrounds a mighty figure of fur, horns, and fangs, raging, visible from miles and miles away, I feel her. And I latch on, not taking no for an answer.
I see through her eyes for only a split second before I nearly lose my mind in the chaos. It feels as though the world itself is to shatter. In the heart of this cataclysm that we've managed to partially escape, the sky shudders under the colossal impact of the Demigods' conflict. Each of these beings, wielding powers beyond my comprehension, attack Vincent with things I never even thought possible.
Behemoth, growing increasingly more gigantic and robust, engages in a fierce duel with an equally massive adversary of reforming dust. Since my mind left, Behemoth and the creature of sand that he battles have increased in size many times over. The Binary Lord's head nearly reaches the clouds above that have long since faded from the battle. As they clash, the earth trembles beneath their colossal blows. A single impact leaves Aniwye sprawling and tumbling head over heels away at nearly a hundred miles an hour as she stabilizes herself with her mind, digging a ditch into the ground. Behemoth punches the sand puppet, removing its chest entirely. However, that doesn't stop the executioner's blade that it wields as it leaves a resounding imprint on the terrain, creating a vast gully that will forever scar the landscape. The edge hardly misses Behemoth, the being known to never dodge, evading like his life depends on it.
Meanwhile, Leviathan, with her third eye and bluish-tinted skin, is the one to affect Vincent most obviously. Her ethereal attacks manipulate the vast quantities of sand, sending it hurtling away from her, creating an orb of safety around her, similar to what Aniwye attempts to do. The very earth trembles beneath her levitating steps, causing Vincent to stutter in his movements as he struggles to fend off her relentless assaults. Even the Prime buckles to the sheer might of her mind as when Leviathan shifts her hand, scars etch reality, leaving bits of wobbling air that refuse to return to normal.
Not far from Leviathan is Ytern as he gradually nears the floating Vincent, who guards both Eli's Vessel and Richard Lang. The alabaster-skinned Demigod, wielding the colossal heart in his hand, the Pale Cavity, is the pinnacle of ice and frost. As he battles to reach the Wastelander, who throws untold amounts of Ether and force at him, he creates a frozen barrier, winds of majestic shimmering ice that coils and swirls around him. The ice slams into and deflects the sand, leaving trails of frozen earth wherever they land. Upon impact, too, the chill freezes, expanding and shifting into icicles that return to protect Ytern as they move in rhythm to the heartbeat in his hands. He attempts to break through the relentless sands; each mark of sand and ice colliding sparks mist into the air, further spreading the cold.
Yet amongst them all, the Demigod with the most demanding time is not Vincent; it is Tonuyn. Unlike the others, he possesses not a Sirza or an Arca of incredible power to help him keep up. The short man, with his dark skin, adorned with unknowable script, showcases a wide array of capabilities. He conjures walls of water to shield himself and to move away from the sands, engulfs nearly a mile of the earth in flames, and teleports with bewildering speed wherever he opens his palms and grasps toward. Yet, he faces the relentless onslaught of the sand demigod's ever-flowing waves of dust, putting his versatile abilities to the ultimate test. Tonuyn is powerful in every aspect, but in no place is he Godlike, as opposed to the others.
The repercussions of this titanic clash are nothing short of apocalyptic. The skies quiver in the wake of their heavenly struggle, casting ominous shadows across the land. The earth itself trembles as the colossal forces exerted by these Demigods reshape the very terrain. Buildings crumble, cliffs disintegrate, and cities are reduced to naught but swirling sands as the battle expands further, reaching the nearby populations.
Aniwye backpedals as far as she can, using every ounce of her effort to fight the repercussions. But the Pale Lady grasps for all within, even just the vicinity of these figures. I thought people might have overestimated these figures.
They undersold them. Demigods? How are these people not just Gods!? They can shatter the skies, leave valleys where there were none, and bestow permanent chill and fire to the earth. How are they not Gods?!
"Little one? Glad to see you're back. I was worried."
Aniwye almost instantly pulls me from my shock. She makes me remember why I came back, prompting me to shout in her mind.
"Aniwye! I need your help! Edward was turned into one of those streams of blood! Can you find it?! It should be coming from the east! If you can catch it, I think we can still save him!"
Aniwye's brow furrows, and I can feel her do so as she analyzes the battlefield of Demigods that has stretched to miles in diameter at this point. Even Behemoth's foot is probably a quarter-mile in length.
Scrawling text, burgeoning from Tonyun, etches itself across the vast expanse of the ground as Aniwye searches for Edward's blood. Reality itself seems to fracture and splinter under Levaithan's influence, making it hard even to see clearly as if the fabric of existence struggles to contain their immense confrontation.
Our eyes scour the dark stone of Blackreach that is quickly consumed only by sand. The grains cover all in every direction as far as the eye can see as more and more Ether consumes the earth. Bits of knowledge from Marshall enter my mind as I realize it.
He spoke of the peak of Ether as a Dzil. But to go beyond everything, it is a Sirza. To leap past the bounds of humanity, the limits of Ether, and the suppression of self—that is a Sirza. It is something near-impossible even for the figures with the most agile Ether, demons. For a human to possess a Sirza... As far as history goes, Vincent is the first.
This... this is a Sirza.
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I find a trail of blood surging over the sands toward a mighty spire as the strongest Demigod controls the sands, a force of unmatched power. My heart sinks, seeing the might I have to contest with.
In the distance, mountains crumble, cities disintegrate at his will, and rivers vanish, transforming into a torrent of sand and dust. Massive spires and columns of sand erupt from the ground from these torrents, rising like monumental obelisks as they swerve to fight the Alliance levied against him.
"That! Over there by where Blacktithe used to be! There is a stream of blood! Please, Aniwye! Please save him!"
Only now do I realize that she hasn't answered me, only searched for the form with her eyes. She still doesn't answer, holding her ground as the blood nears a spire of sand, just like Myriad's blood did.
"Please! PLEASE! DO SOMETHING!"
Aniwye sighs, speaking aloud as she crushes my heart. Her words are a quiet cry against the roaring, terrible sandstorm that covers her like a defeated gasp.
"He is already dead, little one. There is no mind in that blood. There is no soul, only Vigor. The Pale Lady has already claimed him."
As I stand here, trapped within Aniwye's body, unable to help, a helpless witness to the death of one of my dearest mentors, a storm of rage and helplessness brews within me. The pain of losing him, a teacher, a mentor, and a figurative brother, to the distant hands of Vincent burns like a white-hot fire. From my core, sears an agony worse than that of the Serum I left behind in my body. I now understand Bonfire's virulent anger—the rage that flows from him without a possible pause.
He must have felt this, too—the absolute helplessness when his friends died. The first time, when Edmund died, made me want to get stronger, to no longer become helpless. The second, when Edmund was devoured by that God, gave me a faraway dream of becoming a God to prevent anyone from becoming helpless.
But I can't move. Aniwye's body is my prison, as if the sands themselves hold me hostage. Yet even she isn't without struggle as the sands encase us, rendering me utterly powerless. The Executioner Of Dust does not consume my thoughts. No, it's an Angel, a traitor among the human race, who orchestrated this entire event of mass death. It's this betrayer who is responsible for staging the demise of Edward.
Eli Weiss.
I can't see him from here anymore, not even his Vessel. Even Aniwye's demonic eyes can't reach. The sands are simply too thick, preventing the sight of all but the most cataclysmic of encounters, of which there are many.
My heart, once filled with reverence for my mentor and his father, is now eclipsed by a searing hatred that grows brighter and more consuming with each passing moment. It's a hate that burns with the intensity of a thousand suns, fueled by the betrayal and treachery that led to this moment.
I can't blame Earl. He took a tool that would keep him safe and aid him in his studies. It was the right choice. I only wish I was faster, wiser, better. An odd sense of teeth grinding rips me from my fostering fury as Aniwye tenses oddly.
"Wyatt? Did you just—?"
"Did I what?"
The demon flips head over heels backward, slamming her cleaver into the few solid rocks that remain as she grounds herself. Her words grow in volume as she intensifies.
"You just moved my jaw. This skill... what are you doing with it? It's not merely one of observation, is it?"
Revelations strike me one after another as I recall my fury moving my Ether oddly. Partaking in Aniwye's mind removes all access to mine, as hers is so voluminous. But... with enough force, I can move her? What else can I do?
"I... I don't know. Let me see if I can help."
Aniwye nods as I reach for my skills, previously thinking they were useless. Painsforge is unresponsive, and so are Arbalest and Ironbound, the skills most likely to help in this situation. Even Chainlink Boots is beyond me. But... the second I lust after Strugglers Gasp, Aniwye inhales a deep breath.
Bones crack, muscles creak, and tendons stretch as the height of my view increases. Aniwye grows taller, more expansive, and significantly tougher as her chains loosen. The violet fetters don't fade or vanish but recede, reducing their pull on her. The spiraling sands no longer leave lesions and bruises on her skin. Instead, they bounce off. Her feet steady, even as her mind's might remains the same.
"Incredible, Wyatt! You can expand your skills to others!? How have you never done this before!?"
I don't know how to answer her as a single thought encompasses everything about me at the forefront of it all. Am... am I like an artifact?
My Ether only moves like this because she doesn't resist me. And, with enough emotion and desire, I could maneuver her body. Does Insight shift my consciousness into that of an artifact?
This realization only emboldens me as the rage reignites. Far in the distance is Eli Weiss as the bloody stream of the last Dudley nears the spire of dust.
Trapped beneath the suffocating weight of the sands and the body I share, I am rendered impotent, unable to avenge the fallen or bring justice to the traitor. But as I seethe in impotent rage, I make a silent oath to myself. No matter the cost or the obstacles that lie ahead, I will find a way to kill Eli permanently. All his Vessels. His will be put into the dirt with no way out.
The formulated resolve shifts Aniwye's leg forward, and she immediately shouts at me, hedging her mind in resistance, ceasing all my efforts.
"Hey! Stop! This is my body!"
I didn't even truly mean to affect her; my emotions are simply overflowing. Is this what it's like for artifacts? Possessing feelings but without having your body to ground you into sanity? Nevertheless, I apologize.
"Sorry. Sorry. I... I want Eli Weiss dead. More than anything."
Aniwye nods as she somehow understands me.
"Mhmm. We can do it together. Based on what I'm seeing here, the nearest gatherings of Ether suitable for a Crossroads are going to be completely covered by this fight. We just may have to travel to Onyx Gate for their Stairway. Vincent went out of his way to remove all the gatherings deep in the Territories of man. I surmise it was both for Killian and any others who might know how to manipulate them. On the way, we can get your revenge, little one."
A smile covers her face as she doesn't move an inch to do so. And in the distance, my heart pours over the blood that joins the sands. The crimson dye flows to Vincent. The Wastelander rears back as the man de-ages even further, reaching a time more like Edward than that of his over-a-century life.
Then, the man steps forward, the sands rushing with even more volume than before. The old man is no longer old; thus, his years of gathering might are no longer suppressed by his lifespan. Vincent’s words resound to the entire world as I hear them twice, once through Aniwye and once forced through my faraway ears as more blood flows into him, returning him to his twenties.
The Prime spreads his arms wide as Behemoth is forced back, Leviathan stumbles away in the air, Tonuyn is sent sprawling by sand, and Ytern is moved to a standstill even with his beating Arca.
“I, the Prime of humanity, must apologize. Long have I been absent, absent on fulfilling a great journey. That is no more. Today, right now, my preparations are complete. Great changes will occur, but do not fear. Many Gods remain closeted, sleeping until She calls for them to awaken. I will finish them off before they do so fully. Then, I will go remove the disgrace that is Death, she who is devouring the souls of our dead for millennia, protected by her devious lover. Past that, I will soon descend to Hell and meet a God."
Vincent raises his hands as time seemingly shifts according to his whim. Pillars of sand greater than entire cities in width rise to the sky, reaching higher and higher until they exit the atmosphere. The man doesn't refer to his actions, even as he fights.
"We are soon to experience the greatest tribulation in history. I will bear the weight of the Gods, and you must all bear the weight of the mortals. Yet, fear not. I will provide a shield to protect those who remain. Though, I must apologize once more. The trials to come will not be easy. Were it to be anyone else but me, it would be easier. Yet, I am who I am. Time is scarce, so I had to steal some. I apologize for those I have hurt. I am sorry for the lives lost. Ultimately, more will live than those who would otherwise die to Her.”
More and more pillars rise, nearing thousands in number that reach for the stars, each a hundred times larger than the Spires in Starkbluffs as the Dominions attack Vincent. As he does so, the Dominions give it their all, raging in concert as they use their most extraordinary skills of Ether.
Behemoth and Ytern reach Vincent, casting aside Eli and Richard with little effort, while Leviathan rises to the skies, breaking apart pillar after pillar. Tonuyn continues his inscriptions, which are becoming threateningly detailed. Every symbol he writes upon the soaring sands or fallen rocks burns brightly. Yet, the now-young man battles Ytern and Behemoth in close combat at the same time while countering Leviathan and Tonuyn with sand as he does so.
But as the opponents near Vincent, Aniwye only watches, even as a thousand figures surround the Dominions. Each spark has a fourth, fifth, or sixth Sigil, but they move in coordination. They, in unision, retrieve a dagger and end their lives with a swift stab to the heart. The figures are shrouded by the dark clothes of Eli's Roots, and their blood heedlessly joins the sands.
But unlike before, instead of rejuvinating the old man, the blood hardens the sand, bolstering its power as Vincent retaliates. A massive spear of red dust pierces through Behemoth's chest, the puncture thousands of feet in radius. The Lord shambles back, but not before Ytern is similarly repelled. Leviathan shouts with all her might as the sand in the sky shatters, falling to the ground like meteors.
"Shit!"
Aniwye curses in her mind as the demon dives into the ground, forcing aside rock underneath dust as she hides beneath it all. Twisting, she contorts her hands up to bolster the earth with her mind.
"What are you doing?"
The being I share a body with heaves out an answer as she redoubles her efforts, hardly having time for me.
"That's Leviathan's most well-known skill. Earthly Destruction. She normally tosses up an island, but those sands will do as she orients them in freefall. Let me focus!"
Barely a second after she finishes, reality trembles in fear of the falling islands.